


Inertia

by Moonstruckidiot



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: #ItsStillBeautiful, A tiny bit of fluff, Angst, Hannibal Loves Will, M/M, No Sex, Sad, Seperation, Sharing a Bed, Will Loves Hannibal, no one dies, no violence, post wotl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 09:56:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7840288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonstruckidiot/pseuds/Moonstruckidiot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will and Hannibal are captured, Jack offers Will a deal</p><p>Or </p><p>Will realises he loves Hannibal but its too late </p><p>(No one dies, the epilogue gives hope)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inertia

**Author's Note:**

> Second fic for itsstillbeautiful - I wasn't going to post this, I hope it makes sense, not sure it does :-) I didnt spend much time on it. I dont normally write so much angst/sadness and only a tiny bit of fluff (if you squint) at the end what happened I dont know, lol. I'll make sure it dont happen again. :-) 
> 
> No beta

The smell of leather fills Will Graham’s nostrils, his face is squashed uncomfortably into the cold, hard surface of a car seat. If the aim is to suffocate him there are easier ways of doing it, _let me up,_ he thinks, _and I’ll show you how its done_. Arms hold him down, he’s tried struggling but it’s no good, better to lie still, save energy and his breath. He strains his eyes upwards but all he sees is the grey of a man’s trouser leg.

“Officer get him up.”

 _Of course it would be him,_ thinks Will he can’t resist a smirk even as the hand in his hair grips tighter and jerks him up. “Jack,” he coughs, a little hoarse from the rough handling.

Their eyes meet once before both men quickly look away.

Body leaning forward and head bowed Will hears rather than sees the car door being closed, its just him and his boss.. former boss ... the man in charge of taking him back dead or alive.  Will notices the cuffs are left on, so man in charge it is, does it really matter, he decides not.

A weight settled on Jack’s chest when he stood amongst the life-less bodies of police officers strewn across a lonely road in the middle of no where, it has not eased since not even for a moment and seeing Will just adds to it. He glances at the former special agent, several long, long months have come and gone and bristle, way ward curls and bedraggled clothes have returned. All things considered Will appears well fed and healthy but Jack is surprised to see him looking so shabby, he had expected to find a better groomed and more intimidating figure. Instead Jack is reminded of the man who he first pulled from the lecture hall, the anxious, tense, anomaly who wanted to be left alone. M _aybe it would have been best for everyone if he’d just been left_ , it’s not the first time this thought has trespassed on Jack’s mind but his rebuttal is always the same, there were lives to be saved and no one was, no one is as good as Will Graham. Would it have made a difference anyway, Jack doesn’t believe in fate, but with these two...would Hannibal have always found Will, its a thought to give a man sleepless nights.

Curls form a veil across Will’s down turned face it's a relief to Jack, the truth is he doesn’t want to look upon him and see how far he has fallen he needs to believe Will is redeemable.

“I have a deal for you Will,” says Jack.

Will snorts and shakes his head, _how is that even possible._

Jack has given thought to the offer, to what Will may make of it, to whether he’d even want to be saved. Saved...Jack has reconciled himself to this word, he couldn’t save Bella nor Miriam but there’s a life to be saved here and he’ll do what he has to. He expects opposition Will always had a streak of fatalism but he does not.

“Lecter’s rap sheet against you is eye watering, the edited highlights include covering up your illness, framing you for his crimes, gutting you, sending a madman after your family and lets not forget he was intent on cutting open your head and eating your brain whilst you were still alive.” Jack can’t help a shiver at that last memory, ‘obsession’ it stands on the tip of his tongue but its all too evident it cuts both ways. “Of all of us who still get to breath you are his biggest victim,” he says.

Will shakes his head, “no” he murmurs more to himself than to Jack, _no, I’m not, maybe I once was, but not now._ He’d like to tell Jack of how lovingly he was held when the knife was slipped in, of how stable he feels when Hannibal’s warm hand’s caresses his cheek and how much it hurts to be the cause of heartbreak in those dark amber eyes, but these are private things not meant to be shared. “I am no victim,” he says.

“He coiled himself so tightly around the branches of your mind you don’t know where you end and he begins ... but I do.”  

 _There’s that tone_ , thinks Will, the one which tells the world I am a director of the FBI and you will do as I say. Jack’s on a mission, its written all over him, save the confused but good hearted FBI profiler from the big bad cannibal and, in the process, absolve himself. _I hate to tell you Jack but I’m too far gone, you’re just gonna have to live with the guilt_ , Will could almost laugh, almost.

“You,” Jack continues, “are still the guy who rescued dogs, sat with me when I found out about Bella’s cancer,” he pauses, breathing heavily out, giving voice to her loss still hurts, “and put saving the lives of others before his own. I watched you struggle against Lecter, you let me know but I didn’t listen. I am not giving up on you now.”

It’s not said but Will can hear the echo of, ‘whether you like it or not.’  

“Give evidence against Lecter, you’ll be put into witness protection and you can start again, you’ll be safe from him and,” Jack says clearing his throat, “you’ll never hear from me again.”

 _Tempting_ , thinks Will the part about Jack at least.

“I’m offering you a fresh start all you have to do is testify against Lecter.”

 _Renounce him, save yourself,_ is what Will hears.

“It’s that simple,” says Jack, he turns his body towards Will a confrontation of sorts, before adding, “don’t tell me you’re not a little relieved that we showed up.”

Will breathes those last words in and then out, he can’t disagree with them.

\------

Like drift wood the sea had deposited them high on a sandy beach and though seriously injured the two men were far from dead. They made their way, each compensating for the injuries of the other, along the shore until they found what looked to be a vacant summer home. It was a refuge for a night, maybe two, providing them with much needed warmth, food and a place to assess and tend wounds. It’s difficult for Will to remember much about that time, it’s a mess in his brain, a feeling of going very fast and then very slow, of pain, fear and despair. Sometimes lost words and feelings slam him right in the face, it like he’s hearing them for the first time but they come from depths of him.

Sat now with Jack in the back of some SUV Will’s mind is wracked by the tearing scream he made, he did make it of that he’s certain, when he thought he’d lost Hannibal. He can’t remember, although he’s tried really hard, if it was when they were in the sea, or on dry land, maybe it was from when they were still both so ill, but it could be from a dream he just doesn’t know. How did it get from that to this he wonders, of fearing the loss of Hannibal to being relieved.

For all his sense of relief Will can’t wipe away the good things, that first night they had, out of necessity, slept in the same bed keeping a watch on the other. He remembers placing his hand over Hannibal’s heart just in case it stopped beating, was it then that he screamed, maybe. Even when they recovered and ‘keeping a watch’ was no longer necessary they did still share a bed, he’d miss it the comfort of having Hannibal next to him, he had never slept better.

A few times, more than a few if Will is being honest with himself, he’d reached out his hand during the night to touch his companion but his fingers only hovered never making contact. He didn’t know what he wanted or maybe he did, but as much as there was a push towards Hannibal something also pulled him back. Will would always give a little sigh then turn his back on the sleeping man, he’d wish Hannibal would wake and look at him with a soft smile and sleepy eyes but he never did. The next morning Will would be a bit cooler with Hannibal as if it were his fault he was so confused, well it was, wasn’t it.

If Will was in Hannibal’s office in Baltimore right now he’d be agitated, pacing up and down trying to figure things out. Instead he’s on his way to FBI interrogation cells somewhere, he wonders if they’ll even be taken to the same place, if he’ll ever see Hannibal again. There’s a lot of ‘if’s’ in Will’s head, this one he rolls over again and again, if those dark amber eyes had just opened would they have drawn him closer or would he have flinched, was there ever a real alternative to the here and now.

During the time they’d spent at the safe house, it was one of several Hannibal had, Hannibal’s behaviour had been irreproachable, a little too much so. He’d kept the house clean, made sure they both ate, put up with Will’s mood swings and offered companionship when it was wanted. From time to time Hannibal would put forward a plan to get them abroad and start a new life, it wouldn’t do to stay too long in the US, he’d say, they would eventually get caught. Then with that almost invisible smile of his he’d listen to Will poke holes, where of course there were none, and that particular plan would never be heard of again. Looking back on it Will can see Hannibal was giving him the choice to stay and be caught or go and have a life together elsewhere. With all his empathy sometimes he can be such a fuckwit, he wants to rip into the seat in front see it torn to pieces, its innards out, but he can’t do anything, except maybe get knocked unconscious by some huge agent, so he remains still and stares into nothing.

That night on the bluff, killing had felt so good and hunting with Hannibal was beautiful, few would, could ever understand it, certainly not Jack. But not everything was reconciled, how the fuck could it be he’d taken them over the cliff for Christ sake trying to avoid what came next, he’d wanted to die with Hannibal not live with him. He knew where Hannibal stood, what he wanted, the two of them against the world, fuck that’s a lot to ask.

The choice was made not by a clear, logical process, but by allowing things to drift, without rudder or paddle, towards what now seems inevitable. Will had felt relief when the burden of choosing, of committing, was finally lifted but here, with a reality of life without Hannibal ahead of him, it is slowly ebbing away.

Will can clearly see Hannibal’s face, that beautiful face, how it got a little sadder, around the mouth and eyes, as the days slipped by, fuck what a dick he was that he hadn’t seen it, hadn't wanted to see it, until now.

......

Will’s legs are shackled to a chair, hands still in cuffs, his head has been lowered all this time like some neglected dog out in the rain. Armed officers surround him guns aimed, he thinks that’s more for Hannibal he assumes he’s coming, there are two chairs set out.

Jack walks in taking position at a desk, Will can hear the shuffle of feet he looks up straight into Hannibal’s eyes, he pulls away from them, god he’d like to say he’s sorry, that this is all his fault and can he have another chance..

Will is right of course the guns move to cover Hannibal, in another context this would be a serious miscalculation, but not today, today there will be no last stands or other heroics. It was Hannibal who took a gun from Will’s hands when the cars rolled up, who knelt placing his arms on his head and motioned for Will to do the same.

Now Hannibal sits, his legs chained, he’s alive and Will’s grateful for that at least. Allowing his eyes to wander up long legs, Will senses Hannibal turn to him, he doesn’t look up though he’s too ashamed.

Surprisingly their hands are cuffed together, some game Jack is playing, thinks Will, he doesn’t mind though he turns his head to look at the other hand, so near.

Despite the guns Jack has assessed Hannibal as not being a threat. Jack knows about love and he knows this ‘thing,’ this monster in the guise of a man loves Will. Not in the way most people would recognise love but its a close enough facsimile of it for Hannibal to want to protect Will, Jack knows that.

“Will,” says Jack, “the deal leaves with me when I exit this room.”

The only response a shake of brown curls.

Jack closes his eyes, he’d like to pick Will up by the scruff and shake him, make him see sense, tell him how hard it was to get this deal, that he wouldn’t do it for anyone else. He sighs, “OK, Will,” he says, “one last time.”

It’s Hannibal’s eyes Jack holds when he says, “Please take the deal.”

Will feels a touch, a stroke against the side of his little finger, he turns his head as skin slides over skin and finds an anchor. His breath hitches, this might be the last time he gets to feel these fingers wrapped around his own, he cant handle that. He wants to remember this soft press of flesh but it wont be enough, it’ll fade too soon. A mad thought, he’ll never wash that hand again. He’s on the verge of laughing hysterically but he can’t, not when there’s a sob choking its way out of his chest.

He hears a “sssh” too low to be for anyone else but him, looking up he sees the love that Hannibal has carefully hidden away for all those months. He understands then what Hannibal has done, he shakes his head, “no.”

“He’ll take the deal, Jack,” says Hannibal.

Jack pretends he doesn't hear Will whisper, "I love you," to Hannibal just before they are led out of seperate doors.

.........

Epilogue

12 months (ish) later

Will Graham or William Hunter as he is now known lives in an apartment in a suburb of a small mid western town. He works part time in an independent book shop, one of those with book clubs, poetry nights and regular customers who drop by for a chat. It requires him to be sociable, it seems William is able to tolerate what Will never could.

He’s on his way out of the local grocery store, a regular stop after work to pick up some vegetables, he cooks now not great but better than he used to. Just meals for one, it was agreed no dogs it would be too obvious a sign if anyone came looking.

He hears a woman’s voice behind him, the shop assistant “Sir, you left this.” She casually slips something in his bag then walks away not giving him chance to say, ‘no I didn’t.’

It’s a magazine, folded in such a way that only the back cover shows, William decides against looking until he gets home, he doesn’t know if he’s being watched.

Tattle Crime lies in the bin but the letter inside sits in William’s shaking hands his eyes trace the curves and loops of the handwriting.

Its the first of many letters, one a month always enclosed within the pages of Tattle Crime, they invite Will, for it is Will they are meant for, to walk or sit with Hannibal and admire a piece of art, a city or a night at the opera.  

In return, but at not so regular intervals, Will anonymously sends Hannibal a book, not a first edition or a rarity, but a beaten up, dog eared copy of one which sat on the shelves of his library in Baltimore.

Will waits.

**Author's Note:**

> The letters - When Hanni could see their chances of being caught were increasing by the day he contacted his lawyers and arranged a few things. He wrote many letters and dictated how and in what circumstances they would be delivered to Will. The letters are an invitation to join Hannibal in his mind palace, they include illustrations of pieces of art, anecdotes about the time Hanni spent in certain cities, even web addresses for particular topics.
> 
> I could probably write a total fluffy thing about the book and letter exchange but tbh I just wanted this out of my head. :-)
> 
> Hanni may (I can't decide) have arranged their capture, based on the agreement that Jack never again contacted Will. I have a feeling that Will would become stuck unable to choose what to do, fearing if they stayed the way they were Will would likely spiral into depression and potentially become suicidal, Hanni decided to take a risk, a calculated one. Their chances of being captured were increasing contacting the FBI allowed him to exercise control in how it occurred, and reduce the likelihood of Will being injured/killed. it also has the benefit of shocking Will into realising he loves Hanni. Without Will to turn to the FBI would be more likely to come to Hannibal in the future- which of course they do - a few years later (I'd cut the time frame) SOTL - Hanni escapes and reunites with a Will who now wants to be with him. :-)


End file.
